


Electrolyte

by FancifulUniKitty



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben fucks a Gatorade bottle ok, Doctor!Rey, F/M, Finger Sucking, Finger kink, Hand Kink, Hospital, Mutual Masturbation, OnlyFans, Rey is 4 years older does that count as an age gap?, Rey is addicted to his dick and his tattooed hands, Rey is his number on fan, Voyeurism, camboy!Ben, college boy ben is a little bit of a himbo, crack!fic, masturbation with inanimate object, mention of large needles., she has to drain his dick, she wants to drain it without the needle, thigh humping, visit to the ER, why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulUniKitty/pseuds/FancifulUniKitty
Summary: Ben is a camboy with an ultra popular OnlyFans account. One of his regular fan makes a vague request with a large tip and he has to get creative. He doesn't expect to meet that fan when his exploits land him in the ER.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 25
Kudos: 171
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	Electrolyte

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a stupid crack!fic that has been sitting as draft for over 6 months. It's just meant to be silly and funny, so please laugh with me and not at me lol.
> 
> Keep in mind, Ben is a student in grad school, Rey is a few years older and has just completed her internship/begun her residency. She's a little bit of a cougar I guess.
> 
> Keep in mind I know FUCK ALL about OnlyFans or other such platforms. I watched a couple of YouTube videos to get an idea for how it works, but I know nothing really. Don't come for me please hahaha.

  
Look, it’s not like Ben _planned_ for today to go this way. He was just trying to send videos to his private tippers before heading to class. Most of them take no more than a half hour, maybe a little longer, depending on exactly how outlandish his viewers were feeling with their tips and requests. The one he’d been recording this morning had, oddly, been the _least_ specific request a subscriber had ever sent him. Which, if he were being honest with himself, felt a little sus considering he’d seen the username logged into almost every one of his livestreams, and she’s tipped him on a somewhat regular basis with captions like “just because” and “love your content”, like he’s a YouTuber and not some random (literal) dick on the internet, but had never actually requested anything private before now.

Unlike most OnlyFans users, Ben doesn’t have a tipping menu. He figures if subscribers are already paying the premium they do, they should have some say in the amount they pay extra and what they get in return for that. So when he logs in to check what types of photos and videos he needs to send out today, he’s more than a little floored to read this message:

**_Tip Alert!_ **

**_$200_ ** **from** **_BluRey98_ **

**“Show me something no one else has seen yet. 😉”**

_What the fuck kind of a request was that_? He was a camboy, for fuck’s sake. For all she knew, anything he sent her could be sent to a thousand other thirsty subscribers and they’d all be none the wiser. And he could do that. He could easily recycle anything from his burner phone, but since she’s a regular who asks for literally nothing in return, he figures he should put some effort into this one.

_BluRey98_

_BluRey…_

Glancing around his room, he tries to pull some inspiration. Something unique. Most videos he sends fans are already on his feed, but he knows these girls (probably guys, too) feel special enough to get it sent to them _privately_ , but he gets the distinct feeling a lurking like BluRey will notice if he sends her a repeat. _Fuck._ What _hasn’t_ the whole of the OnlyFans internet seen of him at this point? He starts repeating the username, as if that’s going to help him come up with an idea if he goes on long enough.

“BluRey… BluRey…”

He taps his chin aggressively in thought.

“Ok, BluRey, she must like movies…” He mutters to himself. “Maybe I can recreate a movie scene…”

He walks over to his bookshelf to sift through the scant handful of DVD and BluRay discs he owns (who in the fuck owns DVDs in 2020??). Underworld? No. Fight Club? No. The Exorcist? _I could exorcise my dick… get that demon out of it…_

Then he sees it. His leftover bottle of Gatorade. Frost-flavored, of course. His favorite. And its _blue_ . He never finished it last night while he was up studying, but as he examines it inspiration strikes. He unscrews the cap and swigs down the rest, licks his lips as he carefully wraps his fist around the opening. He imagines what his fist looks like when wrapped around his cock, trying to get an idea of the appropriate sizing and decides that this will do nicely, indeed. Something no one’s ever seen from him? Well, shit. _He’s_ never even seen himself fuck into a Gatorade bottle so he supposes there really is a first time for everything.

A few minutes later, the camera’s been set at the perfect angle. The lighting is _just_ so. There’s a mark on his comforter indicating where he needs to be to get the framing that he’s after. Even though this lacks all of the toys he’s typically used to having available for a liveshow or some other requests he may get from viewers, he finds that he’s actually a lot more nervous about this video than he’s been in a while. He’s seen plenty of porn, seen other guys’ videos (for _research_ , ok? And if his dick reacted to some of it from time to time, well…), he knows what most viewers are looking for when they watch him. But this? This is probably leaning a little on the weird side, even for him.

He’s not unaware of his size. He’s six-foot-three, 220 pounds of bulk and muscle, broad shoulders and he works hard for the all definition that he’s got. Ben’s not unaware and Ben’s not stupid. He’s a big guy. Plus, he’s got tattoos, which seem to give a nice boost in his viewership. His viewers mostly have a size kink or a tattoo kink or a hand kink, for which he is not complaining. Thankfully, he’d been just as unoriginal as a million other try-hard youths and had the most generic flash sheet tattoos a broke 21-year-old college student could buy. He may or may not already regret a couple of them only 4 years later, but it seems to get a good reaction out of his audience. Especially the red rocket on the back of his hand. Still, he’s not _stupid_ . Ben _does not_ show his face. He wants a real job one day and he can’t risk any of this shit following him around forever.

It’s not even that he likes doing this shit, really. He just likes the income and the freedom. After Bazine, his heinous bitch of an ex, kept commenting on his size and finally asked him to make videos with her for a share of the profits, he realized quickly that he was wasting his life away at fucking Starbucks. Once he built up a decent following and could consistently make rent month after month, he’d put in his notice and had been able to focus on his channel and his schooling properly.

He reaches over to the camera on its tripod, flipping the display screen up so he can verify that he is framed properly before getting in position. It only takes a few practiced strokes over his crotch to get his boy at attention and ready to put on a show.

“BluRey,” he says out of frame, something he doesn’t usually do unless it’s a significant tip (hers is) with that specific request (her was not). “This one’s for you. Something no one else has seen before.”

He starts with lube, getting himself nice and slick to make the glide into the mouth of the bottle as smooth as possible. It’s still going to be a snug fit, since the bottle offers no pliability, and he’s counting on using that friction to his advantage, but he doesn’t want this to be _painful_. Once he feels adequately soaked, and painfully hard, he reaches for the bottle. He starts to press the head through and he finds that he’s having to squeeze just a bit, force his cock to give a little in order to go past that.

“ _Fuck_ .” He mutters. It’s a tight fit. Tighter even than he’d expected. He has to keep gripping his flesh tightly enough that it gives in the scantest amount, inch by inch down the shaft, as he slides it through the opening. When the mouth of the bottle is finally, _thankfully_ , seated at the base, he has to take a breath before continuing; even his tightest cock ring is only slightly tighter than this.

He grips the body of the bottle in one hand, his fingertips just touching his thumb, and with his huge hands that’s saying something and he knows BluRey will probably notice it. His hands and their size in comparison to the items he uses are a very popular topic of discussion in his comments. He’s leaning back on his heels, his body at a three-quarter angle from the camera so the bottom of the bottle is in view. As he starts to thrust as best as he can, he can feel the very tip of himself _just_ brushing the indented bottom of the bottle. He’s hoping she gets sight of that, indicating just how big he is to her.

His hips slowly start to find a rhythm; he’s not moving in and out much, barely a couple centimeters at best, but the way the rim is squeezing the base of him is making the sensations overwhelming. 

It’s a bit mind-boggling, the amount and types of toys he has and uses on a regular basis and a fucking _Gatorade bottle_ has him so hard and weak by just barely rocking the littlest bit. He tries to pull out a bit further, hoping to get a bit more movement, make the video more exciting, more worth the $200 this girl (he assumes girl, anyway) sent him, but when he picked up the bottle he hadn’t even thought about suction and air. When he can’t get his dick free after a few minutes, he gets flooded with memories of getting cups and other such bottles and dishware stuck on his face before he knew how to properly drink from them, having to run to his mother for help. _That_ is clearly not an option today.

His miniature thrusts start to become erratic quickly, hoping if he can push himself to completion he can at least pull out a bit when he starts to soften, maybe get a proper rhythm going to get himself hard again pretty quickly. 

Or maybe this all was just a stupid idea.

He’s leaning toward it being a really, really stupid idea because instead of getting closer to the finish line, through the clear plastic of the bottle that isn’t covered by the wrapper, his dick is the darkest shade of red its ever been, at least a shade or two darker than his stupid rocket tattoo, and the damn thing _hurts_. Well, it’d hurt if he could actually feel it. Because the redder it got, and the harder it got, the less the incredibly tight grip this stupid bottle had on him felt good and the more it felt like ‘I need to get this off before my dick falls off.’

Struggling to get from his knees to his feet, he waddled (yes. WADDLED.) over to the camera and shut it off with trembling hands. He as going to make himself come, get his dick soft and out of this damn bottle, and put this stupid idea behind him if it killed him and he would do it without the cameras, thank you for very much.

As delicately as he could, he flopped back onto his back and drew in a breath. _Focus, Ben_ . _Focus. You’ve stuck your dick in the tailpipe of a corvette and still got off, for fuck’s sake. You can do this_. With renewed vigor he grips the bottle and gives an experimental jerk. He’s not sure if he feels anything really, so he jerks again. And again. And again. It’s like his cock has taken a trip to the dentist, it is both numb and completely oversensitized all at the same time. Both horrifying and thrilling in the way it’s overloading all of his senses yet he somehow knows that it's not really going the way he’d been hoping it was going to.

He steals a glance again, and his dick is now practically purple with how much blood is filling it up. He adjusts the bottle as best he can and he can see that the base where the bottle mouth is gripping him is turning a white-ish color right along the rim from the circulation that appears to be getting cut off. 

And that’s how he finds himself calling an Uber and skipping his mid-morning lecture. He’s wearing the biggest, baggiest sweatpants he owns and is doing his damndest to hide the situation he has going on inside them with an unnecessarily large afghan bundled up in his lap. To her credit, the Uber driver seems blissfully unaware as she chatters on about what a lovely day it was, and was he currently a student at Coruscant U? Her roommate went there for undergrad and is a student nurse now.

Absolutely none of it except for the actual ride are helpful to Ben’s situation but he sits and listens and tries to hum and hah and hiss at times he hopes are appropriate and not just in conjunction with the bumps and dip they’re hitting in the road along the way. And if the hums and hahs and hisses are simply as a result of and in conjunction with those bumps and dips, he’s thankful the driver’s mindless babbling seems to be covering for him.

Then they’re at the hospital and he has to keep the afghan balled up around the front of as he waddles (yes, he is still waddling) through the front doors to the ER and he has to somehow screw his face into a neutral expression and explain to the triage nurse why he’s there in the first place.

“What is the object that is stuck on your genitalia?” The older woman says it so calmly and so loudly Ben has to look around to make sure no one else in the waiting room just heard her. “Sir?”

“A, um, a gatorade bottle.” He whispers. 

  
  
  


“Sir, you are stuck in a Gatorade bottle and have come here to get unstuck. I think the moment to be embarrassed has more than passed.” He wants to kill this woman. Jail Time be damned, he’s about to climb over this desk and strangle her with his own hands. She’s not smiling or laughing at him, so he’s sure she’s not even making fun of him, but his ears and cheeks and positively flaming in equal parts mortification and anger. “I need you to fill this ou-”

The nurse pauses when she passes the clipboard over to him and the way her eyes linger on the tattoo for just a second doesn’t escape his notice.

  
  


In an instant her face is as red as his rocket and Ben can’t believe a woman who didn’t so much as blink when he’d explained his predicament to her can’t even handle the fact that her patient has some ink. _Old people._

She walks away and whispers to another nurse, this one even a bit older with pink and purple streaks in her grey hair, who whispers back and nods before giving him a curt nod and disappearing again. The original nurse returns to the desk and he’s hyper aware of the way her eyes are decidedly not meeting his own this time, not simply distracted by the computer screen in front of her. He finishes filling out the necessary questions and slides the clipboard back across her desk and she gestures for him to take a seat.

He hobbles, trying to accomplish something a bit more graceful than his previous waddle, and seats himself delicately in the nearest seat available. Thankfully it’s only a few moments of shuffling the afghan around awkwardly before he hears his name called and he’s forced to hobble once again. He hears a few angry, and probably definitely in-more-pain-than-he-is patients let out a variety of swears and frustrated cries as he follows the young man through the triage doors into the intake room of the ER. His blood pressure is elevated. Of course. His temperature is fine. He re-hashes his tale of woe. And at last, he’s led to a bed and told to wait.

So wait he does. And wait. And wait. Every few minutes he lifts the afghan and checks to find that yes, he is indeed still hard, still practically as purple as an eggplant, and it still tingles and hurts and doesn’t hurt miraculously all at the same time. He’s checking on the poor thing for probably the thirtieth time when the curtain pulls back and a cheery, distinctly non-American voice fills his little space. The moment to be embarrassed may have passed but it doesn’t keep him from quickly letting go of his elastic waistband, or yelping when the snap back to his hips causes the bottle to jolt in a most unfortunate way.

“A lot of excitement for a Wednesday afternoon!” The woman announces and Ben skips straight from blushing to color drain. He’s sure whatever blood hasn’t flooded to his dick just evaporated through his skin. Everyone in the ER must know by now that there is a man with a gatorade bottle attached to his dick. Great. “I’m Rey.”

She reaches an already-gloved hand to him and he allows himself to extend the hand not gripping his stupid afghan to her. 

“Um, Ben.”

“So,” Dr. Rey begins. “Tell me, in your own words, what brings you here today?”

“I’ve already told this story a couple times today, do I really need to?”

Rey takes a deep breath and sits down on the rolling stool that’s been sitting just off to the side of Ben’s bed.

“I know this is not the most comfortable thing, I get that. And I’m really sorry to be asking you now, but sometimes in the shuffle from admitting, to triage to me, the information can get a little discombobulated and I want to help you with what I understand to be a pretty uncomfortable situation as best I can. You don’t have to tell me why it is that we’re here, I don’t want to embarrass you further, ok? But I do need to understand what’s going on. Is this an… ongoing issue?”

There’s no condescension in her eyes, no judgement the way there had been when the nurses had looked at him and laughed. There’s just a softness and a desire to make this shitty thing right for him and he hates himself for the way it makes his stomach flip in a somersault. Now is definitely not the time for that shit.

“No.” He answers finally, because this woman can _not_ know the things he has stuck his cock into for a few bucks. She just can’t. 

“Ok, so we have an odd one-off situation. These things happen, it’s fine.” Rey is jotting down notes that seem a bit much for just ‘one-off incident’, but Ben says nothing. “I understand you’ve mentioned some discoloration, any notable swelling or blood expelling from the… appendage in question?”

“I haven’t- it doesn’t seem like it, I don’t think.” Ben can’t look her in those soft, understanding eyes and answer these questions so he just stares at the ceiling and wills himself not to blush.

“And about how long has this been going on?”

Ben pulls out his phone and notes the time. “About, um, three hours or so.”

Rey continues to take notes in his flipchart before setting it aside and reaching forward to grab hold of the afghan.

“Alrighty, then. Let’s take a look, shall we?”

It’s then that Ben is able to really get a look at her. Yeah, her voice with that accent had been a nice surprise, and her eyes kind, but her face? Well, now that he was giving her a good genuine once-over, she was frankly one of the hottest women he’d ever laid eyes on. All soft angles and freckled skin. Her scrubs and white coat are hiding most of her body but a quick glance downward rewards him with a glimpse of what look to be quite shapely, and long, legs. Scrubs be damned, she’s clearly a petite thing even if her seat and his has them just about eye-level now. 

“Um, I don’t think that’s necessary, is it?” he scoots back a bit in the bed, clinging to his afghan as if it were the fireproof shield that could protect him from the dragon. There’s no way he is letting _her_ see him like this. “Can’t you just give me a pill or something?”

“We can’t prescribe anything to anybody on their word alone.” It’s at this point Ben notices the name printed on her whitecoat. Dr. Rey Johnson. Her name _would_ be another name for a dick. Of-fucking-course. “I need to see if medication is even necessary. We may be able to get you out of this situation with another method.”

Ben continues to cling to the afghan and his absolute last shred of dignity until she fixes him with a firm eye and places her impossibly small and dainty hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

“Ben, I promise you,” she says, quietly and with the kind of calm doctors only seem to have on television soap operas and never in the real world, “this is genuinely _not_ the strangest thing this ER has seen. I’ve only been a resident here for the last year, and in that year alone I can think of at least a dozen things I would put above this on that list. But, I can’t help you if you don’t first help me, ok?”

He lets go of his breath and looks her dead in the eye when he says: “Look, Dr. Johnson, you have to understand - this is not the ideal way for me to be meeting such a beautiful woman as yourself,” he knows he doesn’t imagine the way her cheeks turn pink, “can you, and your gossipy collection of nurses, possibly put yourself in my position and maybe - and I mean this in the least sexist way possible, I swear - get a male doctor? Or, or maybe just someone I might not have considered wanting to ask on a date if not for the circumstances?”

“As, um, flattering as that is, Ben,” her face is positively scarlet now and it does absolutely nothing to abate the butterflies Ben’s got fluttering around in his stomach now. “It’s two in the afternoon on a Wednesday. I’m the only ER doctor on the schedule for another hour. And if we wait another hour the next doctor won’t have a choice but to aspirate.”

“I’m sorry, a-aspirate?”

“Sorry, it’s a procedure where-”

“Oh, I know what it is.” Ben clarifies. He’s seen that McDreamy show. He’s aware. “What exactly would you be aspirating?”

“Well, it’s really going to depend on what I find down there, idealing I would be able to inject the needle at the base of your erection and drain enough blood to get you free, without draining so much that you pass out. If I have to find a way to break the bottle we run the risk of accidentally nicking your penis or the sharp edges of the plastic could cut you or ricochet or-”

“You can stop, you can.” He knows he’s staring at the ceiling again, but there’s no way he can do this if he’s looking at her. He removes his hand from its position on the blanket and she takes the cue to carefully pull it away and wait for him to lower his waistband again.

“Ben, look at me.” He doesn’t. “Ben, seriously. Can you look at me, please?”

His head rolls to the side and they lock eyes. She’s scanning his whole face, eyes darting all around, though he isn’t sure what it is she’s looking for now. 

“If you want me to grab a nurse, I can. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”  
  
“I want.” He doesn’t mean to croak and he doesn’t mean to sound so desperate. Or so horny, for that matter. Definitely, definitely not the time for that. “I mean, what I mean to say is-”

“It’s fine, Ben.” Rey pats his shoulder. Then she looks. And gapes. And recomposes herself. Ben, for his part, is too focused on watching her watch him to work up the energy it would take to be embarrassed. He sees the way her eyes go comically large, then practically black when her pupils start to dilate. He sees the way her face flushes scarlet and he sees the exact moment that she schools her features and tries to pretend that she hasn’t just gaped at his eggplant dick. 

Then she reaches her gloved hand forward.

It is important to reiterate that this is NOT the way Ben Solo saw his day going when he woke up. He definitely didn’t plan to masterbate into, and subsequently get stuck inside of, a Gatorade bottle. He didn’t plan on meeting and stupidly confessing a fast-growing attraction to a young, beautiful doctor. And he most certainly could never have foreseen that the second she placed her dainty, delicate hand to his abdomen to examine his situation he would blow his load. Inside that damn Gatorade bottle. And yet that is the last thing he remembers before his eyes are rolling back and the world goes black.

…

Rey Johnson - it’s _Dr. Rey Johnson_ , now, thank you very much - can not believe the day she is having. She’d done a foolish thing early this morning before her shift and has been thinking about it all day, but she didn’t think that by spending all day hyperfocusing on what might be waiting for her when she got home, what should have been a private moment with her vibrator would end up becoming a somewhat public embarrassment at work. Because here he is. The one and only KyloRen69 - OnlyFans superstar and the dark knight of her wildest fantasies is in her ER, with a gatorade bottle stuck to his delicious dick.

She knows it's him because, even with the blue label still attached to the bottle, she would know this glorious cock anywhere. For all the money she’s spent in the last year, she’d kick herself for _not_ recognizing the damn thing. The Gatorade bottle is… questionable, at best, but now that the poor guy is out cold in his hospital bed, she recognizes other features about him as well. He never shows his face, so if he’d come in for a broken foot, she’d probably have been none the wiser. But, now that she’s looking, she recognizes those forearms, the veins that bulge from under his skin whether he’s flexing or not. His hand has that signature rocket. She’d known his hands were sizeable, of course, but seeing them up close... And his fingers! So long and thick. Perfect for-

 _Stop it, Rey_ . She chastises herself when she realizes the train her thoughts are taking off on. _You need to be a professional_. 

So she continues along with her assessment. She pulls out her stethoscope and begins to press it to his chest. A chest, she knows from the website, that is so perfectly defined he’s got a larger bust than she has, she’s sure. Not just in width, either. Once she deduces that both his breathing and heart rate are completely normal, she steals a glance back to his groin. It’s been several seconds, surely he’s begun to… deflate by now. 

Only, when she dares to glance at it, _his_ _thing_ is still very much alive, and a particularly angry shade of violet. She’s never used a cockring with a partner before, though she’s done enough reading to know what it’s intended purposes are, and she can’t understand what else his intentions could have possibly been behind this… activity. Certainly KyloRen (or Ben, as it would appear) didn’t need a larger erection, and she’s sure he doesn’t have issues with prematurity, so while she waits for Ben to get up and Little Ben to go down, she’s left wondering just what the hell he could have possibly been thinking.  
  


She hadn’t been lying to him when she’d said it was nowhere near the strangest thing she’d seen in the ER - a man came in attached to a toaster once, and to her that pretty much takes the cake -but this is still pretty strange. It probably makes it to the top ten, easily.

She decides to take this opportunity to make rounds checking on a few other patients, the shift change is in just a few minutes and she still needs to update many patient charts before Dr. Dameron arrives.

One sprained ankle. Wrapped, sent home.

One broken collar bone. Referral to surgery.

Appendectomy. Referral to surgery. 

103 fever with no other symptoms. Given fever-breaking meds. Check again in thirty minutes.

By the time Dameron arrives, he’ll have very little to do right away until someone else falls down the stairs or jams their dick into an inanimate object. At least he’ll get stuck with the charts when the two surgery patients come out. He’ll also get to see Ben’s penis free of its inanimate object… Lucky bastard.

Rey takes a few notes on each patient's chart, before making her way back to Ben. He’s still knocked out but he’s shifted in his sleep a bit and is turned slightly on his side, his cock still completely at attention with the bottle firmly in place. She doesn’t see any other way at this point - they’re going to have to drain it. It’s too bad, really, because she can’t help but think that if they could just get the damn thing off without hurting him she’d be happy to provide a more… constructive method of draining him.

This is not ok, she tells herself. She should not be thinking about sucking off his dick while he’s sitting here knocked out from coming so hard. Still… it feels her with a bit of pride. He’d come because she _touched_ him. He _had_ admitted to finding her attractive, had even said he’d have asked her on a date if they’d met under other circumstances… Before she can second guess herself, she unlocks the wheels to his bed and starts to push him down the hall, out of the emergency ward until she finds an empty room.

She takes a deep breath after wheeling him in, locking the bed wheels and then the door to the room.

“Ben.” She whispers in his ear as she gently shakes his shoulder. She shouldn’t be disturbing him, she _should_ be sending him for a CT to confirm that he hasn’t had a concussion or something of that nature. There’s a million things she should be doing, but all she can think about are the hundreds of his videos she’s seen over the last year, how many times she’s spread her legs and used her toys on herself while watching those videos and now he’s right there in front of her.

“Ben.” She tries again, shaking him harder and unable to keep the whine out of her voice. If he doesn’t wake up soon she’s sure she’s going to do something stupid. And probably illegal. “Wake up, Ben!”

He stirs, letting out a soft moan but doesn’t wake up. She can see his eyes fluttering behind his eyelids, and she wonders what he’s dreaming. Is it a normal, every day kind of dream? Or does the blooding flowing to his cock make his dreams take a turn down a sexual avenue?

The more Rey thinks about his dreams, the more her mind starts to wander. Does he have a girlfriend? If he does, is she ok with all the internet stuff he does? Would she be happy to hear that Ben had just admitted to wanting to take _her_ out? 

What does he think about when he’s filming his videos?

Will he think about her the next time he’s touching himself?

She can’t stop herself when a hand begins to find its way into her scrub pants. It takes no effort at all to slide the thin fabric of her thong to the side and start working her fingers through her own wetness. She’s thankful for the dark navy, she’s sure if she’d been wearing a lighter color, Ben would have definitely noticed the dampness starting to gather when he’d insinuated that he was interested in her. It’s only gotten worse since she saw him come after she touched him. The way his mouth had formed a perfect ‘O’, and his brows knitted together as if the release were taking every ounce of his concentration. The way his abdomen clenched under her featherlight touch…

She can’t help the moan that escapes her own mouth now as she begins to pump two fingers in and out of herself, using the heel of her hand to apply pressure to her clit. It's not as filling as she likes, even after adding a third finger into the mix, and certainly not as good as _his_ fingers would be, they’re so huge. She’ll have to make do, though, she’s got minutes at best before a nurse realizes he is missing and it’s not as if she’d had the foresight to say she was taking him to CT or anything. Without pausing the rhythm she’s built, she raises her free arm to check the time. Shift change in 14 minutes. Plenty of time. 

She drags the fingers that she’s been pistoning inside herself back up to circle her clit in the juices, focusing her middle and pointer fingers on the sensitive nub. She’s rubbing tight, rough circles as fast as she can and in seconds she can already feel her orgasm starting to build up. She bites down on her lower lip until she tastes the faintest hint of iron, hoping to quell the noises that are bubbling up in her chest. 

Her legs start to quake and she quickly fumbles into the chair that is only feet away from the bed Ben is still unconscious in. One hand gripping the seat of the chair until her knuckles are white, the other still working herself over with determination, another minute or so passes when suddenly he moves. She slows, but doesn’t stop. Instead, she lets go of the chair to pull down the waistband of her scrub pants and the string of her thong, shoving at them haphazardly until they’re both bunched up around her knees. If she has to stop to take them completely off she just _knows_ she’s going to die.

Ben grunts, and his brows begin to furrow together as he shifts in the bed. She knows she should stop what she’s doing, knows he could probably have her arrested, or her brand new physician’s license revoked, or blackmail her or… something. Yet, to her own mortification, she can’t bring herself to care. He’s the one that’s done this to her, after all. Thousands of orgasms have belonged to him at this point, without him even knowing it.

Then his eyes open.

“Rey?”

Her name leaves his mouth as a groan and Rey can’t help but to imagine him saying her name just like that when he fucks her and before she can muster up an explanation, she’s there. Her back goes rigid and her toes curl inside of her shoes as a breathy, obscene moan escapes her. She can feel her hand getting coated in her own slick as Ben’s eyes go wide and his jaw slackens.

“Am I dreaming or…?”

Rey smirks. He’s not freaking out, that’s probably a good sign. When her legs begin to steady and the aftershocks of her release begin to subside she brings her still shaky hand up away from herself, giving him a full view of her cunt.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he gulps as the sight of her, and though her face is absolutely burning by this point, she’s feeling nothing short of proud to be drawing out such a reaction from him. As slowly (and she hopes sensually) as she can, she begins to raise her fingers to her mouth, opening up slowly as they approach.

“Stop.” 

She does. She can feel the fine hairs on her arm standing up. She’s covered in gooseflesh and she swears there's suddenly a draft in the room as he slowly sits up, his eyes never leaving hers. He raises his right hand, the one with that stupid, adorable rocket on it, and with his pointer and middle fingers together, gestures for her come over. Jesus.

With her pants and underwear still wrapped around her knees, she knows it’d be a challenge to stand up and walk over with out looking absolutely stupid, so instead she uses the hand that had been gripping the chair to push off of the counter behind her, sending the chair rolling over to him. He’s sitting up fully now, cock and bottle jutting out from his lap and hands stretched out ready to catch her.

She knows the point of being bashful or ashamed has passed, that moment should have hit her before she wheeled this refrigerator man into a private room. Still, she can feel how shaky her breathing has become as he wraps his massive hand around her wrist and guides it to his own mouth.

The doesn’t even feel the gasp as it leaves her mouth, her chest is so tight at the sight of his tongue darting out to lick the arousal off of her fingers that she isn’t sure she’s even breathing. Then. Then he opens his mouth, his eyes rolling back, and slides her fingers inside and _sucks_.

“Fuck.”

It’s just a whisper, but it causes his eyes to flicker back to hers momentarily before his eyelids flutter shut again and then _he’s_ moaning against her fingers. 

She’s breathing heavily now, she knows, but she just can not believe the day she’s having. And it’s only 2:56 PM.

“Tastes so good.” He sounds like he’s drunk on her and _that_ thought causes a fresh surge of wetness to pool between her thighs. Her fingertips graze his upper lip as he finally removes them from his mouth and she swears her entire world whites out when he inhales. “Smell good, too.”  
  
“Ben.”

Without thinking, she reaches for him, her hand going straight for the base and wrapping around his as best as she can. He lets out a hiss through his teeth and looks down. Her eyes stay on him as he watches her carefully twist her wrist back and forth. She can’t get much movement going with the bottle in the way, but she can do this.

“Fuck, fucking, fuck fuuucccck.” Ben says, a bit louder with each utterance of the word. She leans forward just a little, spitting over him to add some lubrication to her hand and at the sight of it Ben throws his head back, continuing his litany of swears as she continues to work the base of his cock. Without warning, he reaches his hand up into her hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling her face up to his to press his lips to hers.

It comes as such a shock that Rey can’t react at first. Then, after a second, she does. She feels like she’s practically melting into him as their mouths work together in a frenzied dance. Soon she’s pushing the chair back and standing awkwardly, attempting to fully rid herself of those stupid pants. Ben pulls away from her mouth long enough to see what she’s doing before devouring her again while he blindly reaches out to help her get free.

The moment she has motion of her legs, and she’s aware that the pants and thong are still wrapped awkwardly around one of her calves but she doesn’t care, she’s in his lap. She positions herself the best way she can, her bare cunt resting on his thigh to give her room to keep working him with her hands.

Their mouths are still on each other, though they aren’t exactly kissing anymore. More just breathing against each other, both overwhelmed by the sheer madness of the situation. 

Hesitantly, she begins to grind against his thigh, the lips of her cunt spread open and the fabric of his sweats creating the most delicious friction against her clit. When he doesn’t stop her she pulls away from his face just enough to catch his eyes. His pupils are so blown out that his eyes look back and it does nothing but spur her on and she continues to ride his thigh and squeeze what she can reach of his cock.

Her free arm is wrapped around his neck and her watch alerts her that shift change is in six minutes. _We can do this._

She leans her head against the side of his, mouthing at his jaw, and then running her tongue along the shell of his ear.

“Ben, we have to hurry.” She whispers, picking up speed with her thrusting against his leg. “Shift change in five minutes. They’re going to come looking for you soon and I don’t want them to put a needle in your dick anymore than you do.”

It’s all Ben seems to need to get to work thrusting back against the fist she still has at the very base of him. The movements cause his thigh to press even harder up against her. It takes only seconds for them to find a rhythm, him thrusting up as she grinds her hips forward. With her arm still around his shoulder she can feel him beginning to tense up and she knows he’s getting close to coming again. 

She pulls her head away from his so she can spit onto her hand again, giving her a bit more lubrication to work with and then she’s kissing him again. While their bodies are moving frantically, pushing closer and closer to their individual releases, she’s taking her time exploring his mouth with her tongue. If this is all she gets, she wants it to last. 

When he begins to lose control, his thrusts no longer in time with hers and his entire body going rigid, she lifts her arm from its resting place around his neck to fit his hair, holding his mouth to her so she can swallow his moans and then fill his mouth with hers as she follows him over the precipice they’d been climbing together.

His body, though still a bit shaky, instantly begins to sag against her, his forehead coming to rest on her chest. Sliding her hand away from his cock, she wraps her arms around him, cradling the back of his head. Her heart is pounding and she imagines it thumping away against his forehead but he doesn’t seem to mind. Just as she leans to rest her own head on his shoulder, her damned watch goes off again. 

_3PM. Shift change._

They both lean back, his arms wrapped loosely around her hips and her hands sliding from the back of his head to hold his face. Her thumb moves of its own volition to rub gently across his plush lips, and despite what they’ve just done to each other’s bodies, the small kiss he leaves there feels like the most intimate touch she’s ever experienced.

“I, um, I think we should-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ben clears his throat, letting go of her hips so she can stand and step her one leg back into the scrubs that are still, somehow, dangling from her ankle. Before she’s able to pull them up, Ben hands her a corner of the blanket he’s been using to preserve his modesty and her face becomes hot as she carefully wipes herself clean. As she pulls up her pants, she looks up and notices that his cock, though obscenely covered with cum inside the bottle, is finally beginning to soften.

“We can probably, um, get the bottle off now. Dameron won’t have to drain it.”

Ben hasn’t seemed to notice the state of his member, only looking down when she’s pointed it out and lets out what she can only describe as relief.

“Thank _fuck_.” He mutters as he tests the mobility of the bottle, pulling the smallest amount and practically cheering when he finds it beginning to slide up his shaft. “Thank you, Rey. Dr. Johnson. I just… thank you.”

“Well,” Rey smiles shyly. If she doesn’t say something now, she might not have the nerve to do so later. If there would even be a later, anyway. She hopes there’s a later. “I should really be thanking you, I think.”  
  
Ben cocks his head to the side, clearly confused, as his hand continues to gently slide the bottle off.

“Thank _me_?”

“Oh, yes.” Rey giggles, even as her cheeks continue to burn. “This was much better than anything you could have possibly sent me.”

“Sent you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead she takes the Gatorade bottle from his hand and examines the contents. Now that it’s not filled with his monster cock (yes, she steals a glance now that it’s soft and ho-ly-shit.) she notices something she hadn’t during her exam. A few drops of the blue drink linger, now sitting on top of the milky white fluid that’s filling at least the bottom third of the bottle. She swirls it a bit absentmindedly.

“Blue always was my favorite flavor.” She doesn’t really know why she says it, she just does.

“Blue?” Ben sounds confused, so she points the mouth of the bottle to him so he can see what she does. “Rey, that’s-”

He cuts himself off and the look on his face would be absolutely comical if he didn’t look so terrified.

“Blue… Rey…?”

She grins and nods.

“Fuck. I swear, I had no idea, it’s a big city, I would have-” He starts to ramble, roughly tugging his sweatpants up and throwing the blanket back over his lap and Rey can’t help but giggle before reaching out to grab his arm.

“Ben, it’s fine.” She hopes she sounds reassuring. “Really. Honestly, I should be apologizing. I shouldn’t have - I mean I’m a doctor, for God’s sake - and I was on the clock.”

“You aren’t now.”

She glances at her watch. 3:04 PM.

“I’m not.”  
  
“So if I were to ask you for a proper date, since you’re no longer my doctor and it’s not longer a breach of ethics…?”

“I’ve already breached more than a couple of ethics, I think.”

“Well, I promise I have _no_ complaints to file.” Ben offers her a lopsided grin that reveals a dimple in his cheek that Rey can’t help but find absolutely adorable.

“Well, if you were to ask me on a proper date, I’d probably say yes. Especially if it’s going to end like this.” They both laugh lightheartedly at that, and then they’re smiling at each other.

“I think that can be arranged. But, um, I have to ask you something first.”

Rey’s face blanches, but she nods for him to continue anyway.

“What the hell were you expecting when you sent that request?”

The smile she gives him is so wide her cheeks hurt.

“I was just hoping to see your face, silly.”

They both break out into peals of laughter so loud that eventually Dameron and the gossipy nurses are knocking at the locked door.

“Come on, _Kylo_.” She teases, “let’s get you out of here.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/unicornthefncfl)


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